Every Scar Will Build My Throne
by Afraid Of Change
Summary: After Negan almost has Rick cut off Carl's hand, Carl comtemplates everything that happened with the Saviors. He looks for a way to remind himself of what he has to do: kill Negan. Strongly rated T for mentions of violence and, trigger warning, self harm. Spoilers for the season 7 premiere: referenced character death.


**A/N: The scene where Rick is almost forced to cut Carl's hand off made me nauseous of anxiety. So I tried to put into words how Carl probably feels after all of that. This was supposed to be longer and involving Enid but I think I'll just turn that into a separate oneshot, as with some other ideas I had.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead.**

The forest doesn't seem to have an end, it's just trees as far as the eye can see. The sky is boringly grey, the road endlessly long. The old, roughed up RV makes a crappy noise but inside it's quiet. Everyone has evolved into a much more scary form of grieving: the silent kind. Where it's hard to know what a person is feeling or thinking about. That doesn't matter to him though, he prefers the quietness to the previous eruptions of sound. The silence comforts him, gives him room to think. He stares out the dirty RV window. He wants to lean his forehead on the cool glass and close his eyes, but he knows that whatever he'll see when his eyes are closed will be far worse than anything he'll see when he just watches the trees pass by. However that doesn't stop the ringing in his ears from getting violent, but he'd also rather have his ears be ringing excruciatingly than to hear the crack of a baseball bat bashing in someone's head again. Unwanted his thoughts kept going back to the moment that had just occurred. Seeing Glenn and Abraham's mutilated bodies was something like he'd never seen before, an image so incredibly horrifying had latched itself inside his mind, yet... He could just barely cry. Of course he was sad about their deaths, Glenn had kinda been like a cool brother to him. He had known him since Shane, his mom and himself came upon a small group of survivors and their bond had only gotten better after he came back from a run with his dad. And Abraham, well... Him and Abraham didn't interact that much, but he knows that he was very important to his dad, always supporting him. Seeing such a strong man get partly degenerated to a pile of bits of pieces was indescribable. But his anger for Negan persevered this. He was mainly angry for what Negan had done, but he was also angry because his dad didn't seem to have the same anger. His dad had been angry to, but it had now turned into a willingness to comply to Negan's rules. His dad was being busy thinking how he could fulfill Negan's demands, if it were up to him, he'd immediately start figuring out a plan to fight Negan. They couldn't forget about that. They just couldn't. The sound of a small group of walkers shakes him out of these thoughts however. He realizes where he is and notices that he'd been tracing and scratching the line Negan had drawn on his arm to mark the place where his arm should've been cut off. He stops doing it and stands up from his chair. Meanwhile Rick has stopped the RV, there aren't that many walkers but just enough to block the road. He gets up from his chair, walks up to his dad and takes his axe. He opens the RV door, he knows what has to be done now. With Glenn and Abraham dead, Daryl gone, his dad having a mental breakdown and the rest of the group being in shock, he figures he's probably the best person to handle the walkers. He closes his eyes for a second before swinging his axe at the nearest walker, the axe enters it's brains, killing it for good this time. Blood and guts end up on his blue plaid shirt, he pulls the axe out of the walker and prepares to swing it at the next walker.

It's cold as he lies on the couch, which is weird because it wasn't that cold before. But maybe he just thinks that because nothing seems to be the way it was before. He's been staring at the ceiling for two hours now, constantly hoping he'll fall asleep in the next few minutes, although he knows it's completely pointless. He turns to his side, facing the interior of the living room. The house feels weird without it's usual residents but not empty all the same. When the group stopped by the Hilltop to get Maggie to a doctor, Michonne and Aaron decided to stay behind to help and speak to the people of the hilltop. He knew his dad didn't like not knowing for sure that Michonne was safe, but really there was no better person to keep Maggie safe than Michonne right now and Aaron decided to support her. Michonne, Aaron and Maggie would return as soon as Maggie could travel again. At Alexandria they placed the incomplete bodies of their friends in a special room, they'd bury them as soon as Maggie was back, they'd promised her that. After all this it had been dark and because both houses were emptier than usual the remaining residents had all moved back in with each other. This meant that Rick and Judith slept in Rick and Michonne's bedroom, Eugene took up the bedroom that belonged to Daryl and Rosita the third which was Carol's. This also meant that Sasha was supposed to take up the couch, but she was so tired and she looked so broken that he had offered her his teenage bedroom. Rick had offered they could share the kingsize bed but Carl had refused: he pretty much already knew he would never be able to fall asleep. He sighs and turns to his other side, facing the window. He pulls his left hand from under the blanket and pulls up his sleeve, revealing the still visible line Negan drew in the light of the moon. He traces it, it makes him a bit more peaceful or rather, makes him thinks straight and organize his thoughts. He doesn't ever want to lose track of what has to be done, but how can he make sure the line stays on his skin forever? It's already starting to fade so drawing it everyday would be useless and a waste of marker. Maybe before the apocalypse he could have gotten it tattooed, but then again, before the apocalypse people wouldn't bash other people's heads in to make all members of a group corporate. There was just no way he could find all the supplies to tattoo himself, never mind the fact that it'd look like shit. He sighed, realizing it was a lost cause. Hopeless he turned on his back and closed his eyes. Trying to catch some sleep anyway.

He actually awoke two hours later, at first he was happy: he'd slept for two hours! But then the horrible reality jumped in that two of their most important group members were dead and that a big part of their group was missing from Alexandria as well. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, which was in a desperate need of a haircut, he knew he'd never get back to sleep. It was pointless and so, he got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. He opens up a kitchen drawer and grabs one of the small, sharp knives, a towel and some bandages. He exits the kitchen, walks out the door and sits on one of the chairs on the porch. He grips the knife in his hand, pulls up his sleeve and puts the tip of the knife at the start of the drawn line. At that moment he knows, it's the only way he'll always remember what almost happened and what needs to happen. By doing this he vows that one day, he'll kill Negan with his left hand, even if it's the last thing he ever did on this earth. Then he pushes the knife down.

 **A/N: I hope you all liked this! I know that it's probably not the best idea to give yourself wounds in the zombie apocalypse but I just thought it seemed like Carl to do something like this, not even to really harm himself but as a reminder, a one time thing. But because I know this could also be interpreted as him actually harming himself with the intention of causing himself pain, I gave this a trigger warning.**


End file.
